The "Doctor" at Lusalite

I knew she was there.  I just didn't know where.

Many a night I have heard the beating of drums in our guarded housing compound called Lusalite.  Though I have recognized the beat in the air I have shrugged off the thought that a witchdoctor could possibly live here.  Today I met her. Her home is located behind the small hospital clinic of Lusalite.  What I learned today was invaluable in understanding the perplexity of deep poverty shadowed by women in witchcraft.

We exchanged pleasantries at first as one does with a new relationship. She seemed amiable enough and was willing to talk openly about her life. I easily exchanged my courtesy for curiosity and started probing deeper.  Have you heard of Jesus? Are you afraid to die? Why did you become a witchdoctor? She laughed the minute I mentioned Jesus. I really couldn't discern if it was a laugh of defiance or a cover for shame. She said she had no interest in Him. She had tried to leave her witchcraft once and had immediately become very ill. She emphasized she didn't want that kind of suffering again. I studied her in disbelief.  I asked if she had heard of hell. Immediately she shook her head dogmatically and described it well as though she were the professor and I the student.  I was astonished by her knowledge. Quietly I interjected that the God of all creation who has power over everything really did love her and wanted to have a relationship with her. She quietly bowed her head and said it didn't matter. She was married to an evil spirit.

In the ensuing conversation what I learned has troubled me greatly. Though a mother of four, this woman divorced her husband in order to be married to this evil spirit. She is used by this spirit to talk to the dead on behalf of her "patients."  For a price, the ancestors then advise the patient through this witchdoctor on how to live their lives. She also sells medicines and charms to keep them healthy, wealthy and wise.  In this land of deprivation it is a lucrative business.  I couldn't help but wonder if the evil spirit's name was Money. As she repeated once again that I would never be able to change her mind I noticed three "patients" had come to see her.  I politely excused myself and thanked her for her time.  

As I walked away I mused over the irony of it all. This woman is carrying the dreaded AIDS virus and it will only be a matter of time before she succumbs to the very thing she fears the most. 

(Almost all of the witchdoctors in Mozambique are women.  It has been said that there are as many as 7000 here in Dondo.  In this land of gender inequality a women struggles to find anything that will put food on her table.  It is not uncommon for a married woman to exchange sexual favors for food. It stands to reason that becoming a "traditional healer" would be a very inviting occupation.)